


The Architect

by Toruviel



Series: This time [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Civil War Team Iron Man, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, M/M, Moral Dilemmas, Politics, Realism, Swearing, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Villain Tony Stark, hopefully, of sorts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-22 09:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30036336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toruviel/pseuds/Toruviel
Summary: All these little people with their little teeth… like a shoal of piranhas. He had been- not content, but prepared, willing even, to let them bite him, in his previous life, bite him and attack him and tear away pieces of him, telling himself that he could take it, that he could do this for the people he loved, for his team, for the greater good… telling himself that this was what a hero would do.And then it turned out that a hero would lie, and hide things, and beat a teammate until they went down, until they bleed. Until they died.“I am done,” he said slowly, empathically, “with letting people take free shots at me and mine. With holding back to be ‘the bigger man’, ‘the better man’. I am done, Pepper.”Or: part two of my time travel series, where Tony dies in Syberia and wakes up in the past, in Afghanistan. And he promises himself to do this better, this time. Will make much more sense if you read part 1, which is a one-shot.
Relationships: I'm not saying how it will end, Loki/Tony Stark, Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Series: This time [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010640
Comments: 26
Kudos: 215





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. Here we are. Damn.
> 
> OK, first: WARNING! PLEASE READ! This story contains discussions and descriptions of morally ambiguous or just plain wrong actions, such as violence, espionage, abuse of power by the police and agents, sexist behaviour, and probably more I can't remember right now. It is never a graphic description, I don't think, and it's not the focus of the story, so I didn't put it into the warning tags, but please let me know if I should change it. Oh, and swearing, there's a lot of swearing. 
> 
> Second: A big, BIG thank you to all you lovely people who responded to my cry for help last December and offered to proof-read this story. And a standing ovation to my two amazing betas, Peyton Knight and FanFicNerdOfTheCentury, this story would look a lot worse without their brilliant, patient contribution. Guys, you are amazing!
> 
> One last thing: I'm going to be posting a new chapter every weekend. But if something happens and I'm late then please, people, be understanding, I work overtime as part of NHS and sometimes I really don't have time, ok? I shall do my best, but let's keep things in perspective, alright? Thanks.

_“...Imagine that you yourself are building the edifice of human destiny with the object of making people happy in the finale, of giving them peace and rest at last, but for that you must inevitably and unavoidably torture just one tiny creature, that same child who was beating her chest with her little fist, and raise your edifice on the foundation of her unrequited tears-- **would you agree to be the architect on such conditions?”―** Dostoyevsky_

_***_

The flight was exhilarating.

More free-fall than flight, more of a challenge than either, the fireworks exploding all around him. The main dome of Stark Expo glittered like spilled mercury below him, growing closer with every second.

He kept an eye on the HUD display, Jarvis playing the intro film, his own face greeting the crowds below. Finally, after six months of opinion polls, strategic leaks, and a careful whisper campaign, after hours and _hours_ of negotiating and renegotiating with the military and governments around the world, after sleepless nights and paranoia-fuelled upgrades and looking over his shoulder, after _Rhodey_ —

Finally, almost two years after Afghanistan, he had every player exactly where he needed them to be. It was time for the big reveal.

He landed with a heavy thud, the iconic knee-landing, the beginning, the opening act for the biggest show he had ever put on. He rose and flipped his faceplate open, beaming at the thousands — _tens_ of thousands — watching him. His arms wide open, the mechanical arms whirling smoothly around him, another wonder for them to see.

And. They. Went. _Mad_.

The screams were deafening, rising above the music, bouncing around the dome, wild and excited and _yes_. Good. He could work with that, he could take their excitement and trust and forge it into a throne, a crown, a weapon. A fine blade to open the oyster of the world.

“Thank you! Ah, it’s good to be back!” he called, almost laughing at the irony.

He waited until they screamed themselves hoarse and only then started his pitch.

“Well, aren’t you excited! And here I thought I’d managed to surprise you!” A brief pause for them to laugh and scream and then he pushed forward, gesturing at the armour, now standing empty and still in the robots’ station.

“ _This_ marvel of technology is a new chapter in humanity’s progress. It’s a highly personalized suit of armour that offers ease of movement and protection from just about anything, including artillery missiles. It can take extreme cold and extreme heat, up to 1200 C. Think flowing lava,” a pause to let people laugh and then he continued, a touch more serious. “Think rescuing people from the sites of volcanic eruption with no danger to the response teams. Think walking into forest fires and not dying.”

This time the pause was longer, his face solemn as he looked over the amassed people.

“Think about flying in and fishing people out of mudslides, or from under meters and meters of snow. Think about rescuing people from floods, or tornadoes, or the sites of car accidents with no fear that a damaged engine will explode and kill you. Think about putting it on and breaking out of captivity, walking out of the cave you’ve spent the three longest months of your life in.”

Another pause, and yes. He had them, he fucking _had_ them, with a well-rehearsed sob story and a cheap grab at empathy, he had them in a way he never had before, not even with all the Avengers at his side. Here, now, he _had_ them.

Time to go in for the kill.

“Think about the future,” he said softly, leaning forward slightly, like he was sharing a secret with a room of strangers, a fucking arena of them, the whole world watching, straining to catch his every word. “Think about your children and what kind of world you want to leave for them, what kind of legacy. We’ve worked hard to make the world a safer place, now it’s time to make it a _better_ place.”

Here he relaxed, let them go a little, let a little humour flash back into his face.

“That’s what this Expo is all about. That’s why I invited the best and the most creative scientific minds to take part and collaborate. That’s why there’s a special branch of Stark Industries dedicated to the new grant program for talented children and young adults. That’s why I built the Iron Man suit, to make this world a bit better. And to fly, because let’s be honest, that’s just awesome,” and yep, brief, bright laughs from the audience.

He spread his hands wide, smiling his best showman’s smile.

“The future starts here, today, and it’s up to us to shape what it’s going to look like. I want it to be awesome, I want it to be bright and safe and wide open to new possibilities, and I’m working hard every day to make that happen. I now invite you all to work with me, to help me _make_ the future we can all be proud of!”

A cheer rose.

“Welcome to the Stark Expo!”

He had them.

Hopefully, they’d follow where he led.

***

His audience at the VIP party afterwards required a slightly different approach, a subtler touch. There _were_ those who empathised with him and his Afghanistan story, of course, but they were few and far between. Not really worth the bother. As for the rest…

He sipped his water and let his smile grow smaller, colder, just a touch artificial. A shark baring his teeth.

“Mr Stark!” a portly man called out, greeting him with a small nod. “Splendid show, just splendid!”

“Senator Johnson,” Tony nodded and shook the proffered hand, allowing his smile to deepen just slightly. Johnson might be just a congressman, _officially._ Tony knew just how crafty he man could be, how wide his web of connections was. “Thank you, it’s good of you to be here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m glad the military and the UN finally saw things your way, Mr Stark, though I have no idea how you did it. They seemed rather dug in their positions, the last time I spoke to the Secretary of Defence.”

“They reconsidered,” Tony replied blandly.

“They must have,” Johnson said just as blandly. “Though I’ve heard that General Wallace swore up and down he’d never- Ah, but then again, he did retire recently, didn’t he? Rather unexpected move, that was.”

“So I’ve heard, though I really don’t keep up with the internal military news. Too boring, I much prefer celebrity scandal sheets. Besides, looking too closely tends to make the military nervous. You know how sensitive they can be, you make _one_ inquiry about missing weapons and suddenly you are public enemy number one. No sense of humour. Haven’t heard any interesting news recently,” Tony lied smoothly.

“No, neither have I,” Johnson lied right back.

Tony allowed himself a small smirk, allowed Johnson to see it. Johnson’s constituency had three boatyards in it, the biggest two producing exclusively for the military and employing a good portion of his voters, keeping him in power as long as the production continued. If it should, for any reason, suddenly stop…

“I hope they aren’t considering any dramatic changes,” Tony added, as innocently as he could. “The Iron Legion production is going to be limited to SI plants, but you know how the government is, they _love_ to cut costs and brag about it, especially during an election year…”

“We’re not there quite yet, thank God,” Johnson redirected hurriedly, then paused and shot Tony a narrow look. “Speaking of which… I’ve heard some interesting rumors recently, about your blooming political career.”

Tony burst out laughing. Heads turned in their direction, the people closest to them not even pretending they weren’t listening in.

“Political career! No, sir, thank you, sir,” Tony said, purposefully loud. “I don’t have the patience for it, I don’t have the _time_!”

“You seem to be making time,” Johnson said calmly. “How often are you at the hill recently? At least once every two weeks, sometimes more. Plus all those changes to the legislation you’re pushing through, the donations you’re making…”

“Merely putting my money where my mouth is,” Tony shrugged. “I was brought up to follow through, to make dreams reality.”

“A very family-friendly description for pushing through your agenda. I envy your PR team, I must admit.”

“Agenda is such an _unfriendly_ term, Congressman. I prefer to think of it as... making the world a better place.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“And, since it consists of such _basic_ principles like accountability, increased safety, green energy and affordable health care, a better, more just education system-“

“Sounds like a presidential candidate’s campaign, and I’ve heard a few in my time. You don’t have to be so self-conscious about that m’boy. There’s nothing wrong with having political ambitions, no reason to be ashamed. Or hide.”

Tony looked straight into those pale old eyes. Observing, always observing, like pieces of glass. Johnson might look like an old farmer, but the man had spent most of his life in the White House, and Tony had to remember that.

“We all have things we’d like to hide,” he allowed, raising his glass in a small toast. “How much I’ve paid for this rather subpar sparkling water is one of them. But really, politics just isn’t for me. The paperwork alone would drive me insane within a month.”

“That’s what assistants are for,” Johnson said, but it lacked the pointedness of his last remarks. Then the old man smiled and leaned in, lowering his voice. “But I understand that you might be confused about that, since you’ve made _your_ PA the new COO of your company.”

“It was pure self-defence. She was bound to strangle me if I missed another deadline on something or other, making _her_ responsible for dealing with the whole administrative crap was the only way I could live to see another day,” Tony joked back, hoping he wouldn’t hear-

“She must have been _very-_ persuasive.”

- _that._

Tony could feel his smile freeze, then stretch and sharpen. Growing teeth.

“I appreciate skills. And loyalty,” he replied, a shade colder. Then, leaning in, he asked: “Speaking of, how were the Bahamas?”

“…Pardon?”

“I heard you had a lovely little get-away weekend in the Bahamas recently, a celebration of some sort? Great taste, the sun there is great this time of the year,” he paused and took some pleasure from the look on Johnson's face. The old man was too good a politician to flinch, but even he could not help paling at the reference.

Being in a homosexual relationship must be a bitch for such a GOP’s man.

“You’ve gone a bit pale,” Tony observed. “Even under that tan. Let me get you a glass of water. Or would you like me to call… _anyone,_ for you?”

Johnson swallowed, with some difficulty.

“No,” he managed, waving a limp hand. “No, thank you, I’m- I’m perfectly fine. Perhaps I’ve had too much to drink.”

“Celebratory champagne can do that to you. Goes straight to your head and all that. One should be careful about how much one- takes on.”

“If only you listened to your own advice,” a voice said from behind Tony, a damn familiar voice, just as a slim hand touched his elbow, slipping through his arm. He did his best not to stiffen.

“Where would the fun in that be? Congressman, have you met Miss Potts yet? Pepper, congressman Johnson. You know, we were _just_ talking about you.”

“What a coincidence,” she said with a press smile of her own. “All good things, I hope?”

“All true things.”

“Yes,” Johnson joined in, having apparently recovered his equilibrium, and giving Tony a slightly too long look. He nodded slightly. “Truth is important to remember, especially in these trying times. Well, thank you for your time Mr. Stark, but I can see I’ve kept you too long. You do have other guests, I know.”

“None as engaging as you, I’m sure.”

They shared a polite laugh.

“Give me a call sometime this week Mr. Stark, if you will. There are a few things I’d like to get your read on.”

“I’ll be sure to congressman. Now off you go, enjoy the party. And go easy on the champagne.”

“…I shall. Miss Potts. Mr Stark.”

They watched him step away and melt into the crowd, the silence lingering in the space between them.

“You didn’t need to rattle him so much,” Pepper finally muttered, subtly steering him away from the next group that looked like they wanted to approach. “He’s an old man, the last thing we need are headlines about a death by a heart attack on our opening night.”

“If he can’t handle a little heat, he shouldn’t be in politics,” he dismissed, craning his head to see- damn, where was- “Have you seen Jane anywhere? There are some people here I wanted her to meet.”

“No, I haven’t seen Dr Foster recently, and please stop changing the subject Tony. Johnson is a valuable connection, you know this _,_ _you_ tagged him as one, why would you antagonize him?”

“Oh, just my shining personality breaking through.”

“Tony.”

He sighed.

“He had a membership card of the ‘Women Can Succeed Only One Way’ club, what did you want me to do, ignore it?”

She gave him a knowing look, one eyebrow raised.

“’ _Women_ Can Succeed Only One Way’ club or ‘ _I_ Can Succeed Only One Way’ club?”

“He didn’t seem to be speaking about himself… Wait! Do you think he _was?_ That it was all just a misplaced-“

“Tony. Listen to me: I don’t _need_ you to defend me against every chauvinistic pig. I don’t _want_ you to. I’ve dealt with them basically my entire career and-“

“To see injustice and do nothing is to let evil win, Miss Potts, didn’t they teach you that-“

“- _and_ I don’t want you to suddenly play a- a damn _knight_ on a white horse just because you’ve suddenly realised how me, no, how _most_ of your female staff is perceived by the world at large-“

“Hey now, there’s no need for this kind of language, I’m no-ones knight-”

“- _especially_ if it involves bringing up the poor man’s relationship!” Pepper finished in a furious whisper, her hand now clenched tight on his arm. “Tony, I _know_ your opinions on this. I know the policies you’ve installed in SI, I know where your money goes, to which charities and support groups- _Why_ would you even _threaten_ him with something like this?”

He stopped and stared at her. Why would she even _ask?_

“He attacked you.”

“He was making insinuations, at most, insinuations which I can deal with _myself_ -“

“He was attacking you in a way you couldn’t defend yourself against, not to someone like him,” he whispered harshly back. “People like him don’t respond to facts, Pepper. They’re convinced they know better, they know what’s what. The only thing they respond to is power and hitting them where they’re weakest, where it hurts. It’s the only way to deal with them.”

“By threatening to expose his relationship? His, apparently, very happy and _very secret_ gay relationship? Tony, I- Some actions are wrong, just- _wrong_. Always, no matter the circumstances, and _this_ \- this is going too far Tony. I know you’d never do this-“

“I would.”

She stared at him for a moment, mouth tight.

“…No,” she finally said, slowly shaking her head, but her voice wasn’t as firm as usual. “You wouldn’t. You’re better than this.”

He looked back at her, at her lovely eyes and drawn brows. By his side once more, younger and healthier and free of the scars his foolish choices had once branded her with.

“I am done,” he said slowly, empathically, “with letting people take free shots at me and mine. With holding back to be ‘the bigger man’, ‘the better man’. I am _done_ , Pepper.”

She looked at him, her eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched. He let her look, took a sip of his club soda and glanced around the huge room. At all the people pretending they weren't watching them, all these little people with their little teeth… like a shoal of piranhas. He had been- not content, but prepared, willing even, to let them bite him, in his previous life, bite him and attack him and tear away pieces of him, telling himself that he could take it, that he could do this for the people he loved, for his team, for the greater good… telling himself that this was what a hero would do.

And then it turned out that a hero would lie, and hide things, and beat a teammate until they went down, until they bleed. Until they died.

“I’m done being a hero,” he muttered.

“…I don’t think you are,” Pepper disagreed softly, bringing his attention back to her. “I think you’re just getting started.”

“Pepper…” 

“You’re overworked, and overstressed, and obviously angry at someone, and I don’t think Mr Old White And Privileged over there is the reason. Is it about Rhodey? What am I saying, _of course_ it’s about Rhodey-“

“No it’s not, and I’m not _angry_ , what am I, an angsty teenager?”

“Whatever you’ve done this time, you should just call him and apologize and end this idiotic stand-off -”

“I didn’t -”

“The press is sniffing around, asking about Rhodey’s sudden transfer. We can’t afford to have our military connections suffer-“

“Our military connections have long since moved past Rhodey, don’t worry about that, I’m on top of that -”

“Of course I worry. I want my two best friends to stop being stupid and _finally_ make up.”

She said it so simply, so bluntly, tearing a little at Tony’s soft places. He smiled grimly.

He _wished_ it was that simple.

“I’m glad you think so highly of me, it makes for a nice change, I have to admit,” he settled on saying. “I’ll remind you about that the next time you berate me over a sex-tape scandal, or dangerous driving, or a missed board meeting-“

“I really wish you wouldn’t do that Tony,” she sighed.

“What? The missing meetings or-“

“Pretending you don’t care, pretending you don’t have a heart. I know you do.”

He looked at her sharply, could not stop himself, not at this reference, the picture of the plaque still vivid in his mind. It haunted his dreams, sometimes, the coldness of glass, the weight of the cube in his hands… the sound of it shattering against his workshop’s floor.

But she couldn’t know this. _She_ had never seen it, never had it made, not here, not in this — timeline? Reality? _Here_ he was very careful, _had_ _been_ very careful, did not let even one arc reactor out of his hands, so how _could she-_

“How do you know?” he rasped.

She glanced up at him, startled, and then her face fell, just slightly, her eyes going soft and sad.

“Because I know you,” she murmured, squeezing his arm once. “Because I see you.”

Did she?

 _Could_ she? Could anyone, really? Or were they only seeing the picture he presented, the press smile and smooth moves and the easy answers of a guy who got it all? Or worse yet, the cracked reflection of a man who went into the desert, into the darkness of a cave, and never quite came back?

“I see you Tony,” she whispered again. “The real you, behind all that- that posturing, and that spoiled millionaire mask you like so much, and- and all that razzle-dazzle you use to keep people at the distance…”

He licked his lips. “Hey, now, you are making me seem like a cheap used cars’ salesman…”

“Never _cheap_ ,” she murmured, smiling back just a little, leaning a bit closer… “But you like to hide behind a mask, putting on a show, saying all these… angry things. Threatening all these things.”

Was this about _Johnson_ again?

“Pepper…”

Now it was her turn to sigh and he could feel it against his face, could see the delicate lines under her eyes, by her brows. How many were there because of him?

“I know you don’t mean it,” she muttered. “But you shouldn’t-“

“I _do_ mean it.”

“…No. You don’t. You’re not- you’re not the kind of person who would do something like that, who believes that the end justifies the means.”

“Pep…”

“If you were, we’d still be making and selling weapons.”

Now it was his turn to sigh. “It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is,” she fired back with a teasing smile. She shifted closer, her hair falling over her shoulder, a sweet-smelling wave. “You just don’t want to admit it because you hate to lose.”

“Hey, now-“ he protested, glad for the lighter note, for the lighter air, for the smile she was giving him…

“You’re such a sore loser, like a spoiled child. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” Another sweet, arch smile. “Your secret is safe with me.”

_Your secret._

Right.

He smiled back, easy and shallow, and took a step to the side, glancing around- and _yes_ , there was a waiter with a tray, _perfect._ He nodded to call him over and deposited his glass, still half-full, grabbed a champagne flute for Pepper and asked for a coffee for himself, took his time specifying the brand and the amount of sugar required…

When he turned back to her, Pepper’s face was once again composed, professional. Closed off. She accepted the drink with a plastic smile of her own.

There was a pause. Tony refused to feel awkward.

“You should mingle more, talk to some people,” Pepper finally said, tone perfectly level. turning to look at the reception room, at the army of black tuxedos and glittering gowns. “Governor Conran was looking for you earlier, and Andon from the Innovative Users, and commissioner Hamm asked for a word-“

“Who is he, again?”

“Commissioner for District 1 in Bay County, Florida. He wanted to ask Stark Relief Foundation to reconsider the grant-awarding criteria -”

“Oh, _him_. He can go hang, he got his answer months ago, if he wants my money he’s got to fulfil the existing criteria and stop whining -”

“He’s not _whining_ , he’s pointing out that his constituency is overwhelmingly opposed to any relaxation in anti-immigration policy -”

“Then he can either work to change their minds or get off my lawn, end of discussion. Why is he even _here?_ He’s a small fish, why would you invite -”

“He came as a plus one of Judge Hopkins, we couldn’t exactly bar the doors-“

“Sure we could, they are _my_ doors. Good God. Just- Jarvis? Locate him and keep me away from him, or I’ll drop my drink on his suit, or be sarcastic, or something equally disastrous.”

“I shall do my best, sir,” Jarvis’ tiny voice sounded through the ear implant.

Pepper sighed. “Just try not to mortally offend him, please, we need Florida playing ball for that vote next month-“

“I’ll do my best,” he mimicked, _finally_ spotting the waiter returning with his coffee. Pepper moved in and smoothly exchanged her empty flute for the tiny cup, waiting until the waiter walked away before handing it over to Tony. “Ahhh, finally, some caffeinated goodness. Anyone else I should grace with my presence tonight?”

“General Ross asked for a few moments of your time.”

He paused, cup half-way up.

“What does he want?”

“He wouldn’t say. Only that it’s classified. And important.”

“I’m sure he’d like to think that,” he muttered, taking another sip. The coffee didn’t seem quite as good anymore. “Well, time to go and work for a living. Keep Hamm away from me and try to find Jane, I need a word with her.”

“Of course,” she nodded, smoothing down her dress and fishing out a StarkPhone from her handbag, fingers flying over the device. Probably checking on all the people he’d have to speak to, organising his life for the next week and half, for all she protested that she would _not_ be his chief operating officer and personal assistant both. “Will that be all, Mr Stark?”

He smiled, just a bit. Almost everything might be different, crooked and tainted by his memories, but some things… Some _good_ things remained.

And he’d be _damned_ if he destroyed them again.

“That will be all, Miss Potts.”

***

Smile. Nod. Shake hands. Make eye contact. Spend a few minutes talking, perhaps mention the upcoming pre-election or the failing stock of his competitors. Play up one of the hundreds of new projects his company had started in the last two years. Laugh off passive-aggressive accusations of monopoly, of building an empire. Charm, flatter, and intimidate as needed; then move onto the next target. Rinse and repeat.

Ross found him as he was chatting with John Buck, an up and rising member of ALEC, and for a moment Tony was almost glad for the distraction. Listening to Buck’s unsubtle recruitment speech was threatening to bring up his dinner.

And then they were alone in a quiet antechamber and Tony was reminded just _why_ he made it a general policy to avoid Ross.

“You’re a hard man to find, Stark,” Ross started, all manners and charm, as usual. “Or just playing hard to get, should I say.”

“Thought about it, but then I decided it’d be pretty hard to pull off, what with huge swatches of my sexual history pretty well documented and _still_ making rounds on the Internet,” Tony replied, all quick talk and expansive gestures, also as usual.

“Spare me the details,” Ross grimaced. “I’m sure your collection of STDs could keep a whole medical school busy, but do me a favour and at least _pretend_ to be a serious businessman? I cannot _believe_ we’ve got to deal with… best weapon dealer _my ass,_ ” Ross ended with a muttered curse, his attention already on the briefcase he’s been lugging around.

Tony smiled, sharp and hungry, completely overlooked. Why fight people’s perception of him, when it could come in so _useful,_ at times.

“We’d like you to take a look at this,” Ross said, fishing out a manila folder and holding it out expectantly.

Tony didn’t even glance at it.

“Was that the royal _we_? Or are you just hearing voices again? Nothing to be ashamed of, you know, one in five-“

“The US _Armed Forces_ want you to take a look at this.”

“Then the US Armed Forces should contact the Stark Industries offices about a consultancy and follow the procedure- oh God, I sound like _you_ , you’ve _infected_ me with the ‘p’ word-“

“We’ve _tried_ ,” Ross cut him off, sounding two seconds from just decking him. “You’ve been ignoring us.”

“Ignoring you. That unusually passive-aggressive of me, doesn’t really sound like me.”

“That sounds _exactly_ like you, you-“

“Now why would I do that,” Tony wondered with a perplexed frown. “Why would I _ignore_ one of my best and longest standing clients, why-“

“Because you’re an immature _dickhead_ who puts personal slights before the security of his _own country-_ “

“Could be. Or maybe, just _maybe_ , it was because said client has _reneged_ on our last deal,” he said, abruptly stopping his smile. “Maybe it was because we had a deal, an agreement, and _you_ failed to _deliver._ Bad practice, that. Sure way to kill customer retention.”

Ross stood rigid, the folder rustling in his too strong grip.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said stiffly. “The Army has paid for all purchases in a timely manner-“

“Oh, that’s cute, you pretending not to know what I mean, that’s really cute. Not going to cut it, though.”

“Don’t think you can just -”

“Let me refresh your memories then; we made a deal, a simple agreement: I make the Iron Legion available to you, make sure the Armed Forces are visibly connected to something positive for a change, something more uplifting and PR friendly than invasions and air strikes and failed attempts to democratize certain oil-rich countries-“

“Stark-“

“And in return, you and your army buddies lean on SHIELD and get them to return my father’s stuff. Doesn’t sound like much, does it? And _yet_ …”

“We did have a deal,” Ross admits in a furious whisper, casting careful glances around. Please. As if Tony would even _mention_ shadowy government agencies in any place Jarvis and Marcus didn’t have under full control. “And the Armed Forces _delivered_. We kept our end of the bargain, you got your old man’s research and personal effects, so you can stop _whining-_ “

“That thing you’re doing, when you’re pretending to be dumber than you _actually_ are? It’s rapidly stopping being cute and verging on annoying now,” Tony let him know, because he was helpful like that. “Did you imagine I don’t _know_ just which notes and objects SHIELD has got, what mysterious blue cubes were fished out of the Arctic? Or did you think I would simply not _notice_ it was _missing_?”

“We’ve given you everything SHIELD has released to us-“

“But not everything they’ve _got_.”

“They’re a _secret spy agency_ , they didn’t exactly invite us to take inventory and-“

“And who’s whining now? Ross, let me make one thing crystal clear: I don’t _care_. I am not interested in your excuses. I _was_ interested in getting the _results_ , but, seeing as you can’t or won’t deliver…” Tony shrugged loosely, a thin smile on his lips. “I make it a habit to not deal with those who don’t pay their dues.”

Ross regarded him furiously for a long, drawn out moment, the file completely forgotten, crushed in his fist. Tony let him. There was _nothing_ Ross could do to him, nothing he could threaten him with, and they both knew this.

“It’s nothing personal, Ross,” Tony let him know, shrugging loosely. “It’s strictly business.”

“Perhaps,” Ross finally said, voice trembling with barely restrained fury, “perhaps we’ve been too hasty in our- acceptance of SHIELD’s seeming compliance. Perhaps it would be possible for us to- revisit the matter with them.”

“You do that,” Tony said with studied carelessness, already turning around. He very much doubted that SHIELD would _ever_ release the Tesseract, but hopefully the inevitable power struggle would keep both them and Ross firmly occupied with each other and out of Tony’s hair. He _needed_ some breathing room, he _needed_ to get the Tesseract, without it all his plans were _useless…_ “And maybe sure this time you’ll actually fulfil your objective. If you do, you know where to find me.”

“We do.”

Tony did not deign to stop and answer such an empty threat. He had spent the last two years shoring up his defences, building up his political capital, greasing the right hands, putting contingency plans inside contingency plans. Ross couldn’t touch him. No one could.

Never let it be said that Tony didn’t learn from his mistakes.

***

She shouldn’t have worn high heels.

They made her appear taller, yes, and added that feminine touch to her otherwise conservative suit, but they also made for a poor get-away vehicle. And God knows she _needed_ to get away from the latest jackass, before she did something Darcy would term ‘freaking awesome, and never mind that assault charge, he totally deserved it’.

“-and of course, it’s ever so good of Tony to bring you onboard, I must say he’s really taken this whole hire-women-to-show-how-progressive-we-are drivel to heart lately- ”

Right.

“Can you see a waiter anywhere?” She interrupted and made a show of glancing around. “Oh, damn, I cannot- I’d _kill_ for some more of this champagne…”

“Yes, it’s rather decent, isn’t it? Not the best, certainly, but good enough for a gathering of this kind,” the guy kept droning on, missing the point _completely,_ damn him. “Say, _our_ family on my mother’s side owns a most _excellent_ vineyard-“

“Would you mind getting me another glass then?”

Please, please, just take her empty glass and _bugger off_ -

He blinked and _finally_ looked up at her face, evidently surprised. Then he smiled and stepped closer, hand reaching out, and she gladly gave him the empty champagne flute-

Only for his fingers to touch hers and slid down, towards her wrists, damp and lingering.

“Why don’t we go together?” he asked, leaning even closer, too close- “Whatever Tony has taught you about- _beverages_ , I’m sure I can- _deepen_ your understanding-“

_Right._

“My understanding is just _fine_ , thank you,” she smiled, sweet and poisonous, stepping even closer, watching his eyes darken, _ugh_ \- She stepped right next to him and whispered, right into his ear: “I understand, for example, that you are a pathetic waste of human DNA that got to where he is because of nepotism and money. Not even your own money, your _mother’s_ money. And you use your position and power to step on and _use_ those you think are lower than you, and it makes me _sick._ ”

He jerked in her grasp, only now she was the one holding onto his wrist, onto his overpriced suit jacket, and he obviously didn’t want to make a scene, types like him _never_ did-

“ _You_ make me sick,” she finished in a low hiss and only _then_ stepped away, giving him another overly sweet smile, leaving him standing there with an empty glass and clenched jaw, face flushed and rigid, and she drank in that picture, those twins spots of humiliation branded on his cheeks-

“Well, that was neatly done,” a voice came from behind her.

She whirled around, only the moment was lost, and she was back in the party she didn’t want to attend, with people she didn’t belong with, and she stumbled and almost _killed_ herself because on these _damn shoes-_

“Whoa! Careful there,” Tony said, catching her around the elbow, and _of course_ it was _Tony._ Of course. “I know how deadly these kinds of shoes can be, they need a warning label. I like the new hair, by the way, very- err, short, very- Humphrey, you’re still here, why are you still here?”

“I- my name is not _Humphrey,_ I’m _-“_

“Don’t care. Scoot. _Now_.”

The guy took one look at Tony’s face and scooted, though not before shooting her one last venomous look. Here comes another crass comment on her scientific blog, she was sure, probably along with rape threats and cyber stalking, if she judged him right. She sighed, thinking of all the calls she’d have to have with her mom to calm her down, the hassle of blocking the guys comments and emails and the sheer _frustration_ of being unable to _defend herself_ -

She blinked, careful of her make up. It was fine, she would be fine. She was stronger than that.

“What were you doing with _that_ guy?” Tony asked quietly, smoothly handing her a new champagne flute. She gripped it tightly.

“Trying to get away from him,” she responded, perhaps a touch sharper than necessary, but damn it- “You didn’t have to intervene, I had it-“

“Yes, you did, and damn girl, that was one impressive vivisection.”

“ _Not_ a girl, thank you, and if you’re so impressed, then _why_ -“

“Because Humphrey there is the only son of Jasmine Woolrich and the heir to the Gaslight Conglomerate, and he might be a little prick with no spine, but he seems spiteful enough to get Jasmine’s lawyers involved-“

“Over _what?_ ”

“They’ll find something, that’s what good lawyers _do_ , and we don’t need any trouble from that direction- ”

“I’m fine! I don’t need _rescuing_!”

That brought them both to a stop.

Tony cast a long, measuring look, and she met it head on. She had done her best to quell the rumours floating around, had worked her ass off to prove that she _did_ deserve the funding he gave her, that her research _did have_ merit. She had grown thick skin and learned to hold her head high, and she’d be damned if she let anyone, even him, talk down to her.

Something passed across his face, some emotion she couldn’t identify, and then he nodded, slow and serious.

“I know you don’t need my help,” he said. “I know how capable you are, and I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. But there are battles worth fighting, and then there are mud fights that just leave you dirty. Trust me, I know. And _that_ guy is _so_ not worth it.”

Easy for him to say. For all his good intentions he was still a man, still white and rich and the very definition of privileged, and had never had his credentials questioned, his achievements belittled just because he happened to have a pair of ovaries-

“Anyway, enough about Humphrey, I can feel my brain cells dying with every second,” Tony said, already moving on, voice back to that half-mocking cadence he usually employed outside the lab, like everything was just some joke only he seemed to get. “I’ve been looking for you, there are some people I want you to meet-“

“I’m not sure _I_ want to meet any more people right now,” she interrupted, looking around for an exit.

“No, come _on_ , you’ll like them, promise, they’re all scientists and _totally_ not creepy, well, no more creepy than a usual ‘Gollum out of the cave’ vibe your typical scientific nerd gives out in any social setting-“

“Really now?” she smiled, allowing him to take her arm and lead her slowly towards the crowd of people, amused and resigned in equal measure. She had observed this to be a common reaction to Tony’s- _Tonyness._ “ _You_ are a scientist too, you know. And a nerd.”

“Please. I’m too cool to be considered a proper scientist, everyone knows I’ve got more of a Batman vibe going on-“

“A _mad_ scientist, more like.”

“The best kind,” he agreed and, with one last smile, dragged her back into the crowd of guests filling the huge atrium.

She had to admit, if only to herself, that it was quite interesting, walking with him. No-one tried to stop them, for one, not beyond a polite greeting, though many obviously wanted to. No-one looked at her like she was a cheap call girl, for another, not while she was- yes, ok, she _was_ hanging on Tony’s arm, if only to keep her balance, _why_ did she allow Darcy to talk her into wearing these _torture instruments-_

And then they cleared the main throng and turned towards- one of the side buffet tables, only the people gathered around it weren’t standing and carefully picking at one of the _ridiculous_ hors d'oeuvres, they were-

“Where did they get _chairs_?” she asked, her own feet throbbing.

“They asked J,” Tony replied distractedly, already scanning the small crowd. “Come here, Jane, I need- Fusling! Fusling! _There_ you are, come over here! This lovely creature is Dr Foster, head of my astrophysics department. Jane, this old dog is-“

“Dr Fusling,” she blurted out, and she couldn’t even be embarrassed, because _how_ did Tony get _Dr Fusling_ to attend? The man was a living _legend_ , _and_ a notorious reclusive, hardly ever leaving his lab in China, _how_ \- “I’m- It’s an honour, Dr Fusling, I’ve read all of your works-“

“Half of it is wrong,” he interrupted her, shaking her hand and _she was shaking hands with Dr Fusling-_ “And the other half is underdeveloped. Though I see you’ve used some of my funnelling theory to work on your time-mass problem.”

“I- well, yes, it works particularly well with the Einstein-Rosen Bridge, but how do you-“

“Stark sent me some of your early finding reports, show-off that he is, and- Oi! Stark, don’t you _dare_ steal her yet, we’ve got things to discuss-“

“Then maybe you should invite Anand to the discussion, you know how he is if he misses any- Ah, and here is Rachnikoff-“

Before she knew it, Jane was sitting in one of the chairs around the table, talking to the leading scientific minds in the _world_. The discussion was lively and sometimes heated, new ideas being born and discussed and discarded almost too quick to follow, and this was more than she could have ever hoped for, more than she could have ever envision, it was-

It was as close to Heaven as she would ever get, probably.

…And she had not achieved it on her own. Had not earned it. It was only Tony’s whim that gave her this.

Still, it was an opportunity not to be wasted. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Which was, of course, when Darcy called her with an emergency from the site. Because _of course_ she would.

Well, at least Tony had a reputation for travelling everywhere on his private jet, _one_ of his private jets, and he had mentioned that he wanted to visit the base soon. No time like the present, right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to my two lovely betas and to all you amazing people reading and leaving me comments, they keep me motivated. :)

Nick was in the middle of reading this morning’s dispatches when the doors banged open.

“What- You _son of a bitch!_ Get off my goddamn chair!”

Always good to catch people in an agreeable mood.

“Don’t know what you’re so upset about,” he said, glancing up from the reports. “It’s not even that comfortable. Too much of a fat ass impression.”

“Then you’re more than welcome to get yourself _out_ of it and then _out_ from behind my desk and _out_ of my office!”

Nick sighed and threw the file on the desk, knocking the whole stack down. Classified documents rained down, gritty surveillance photos and autopsy reports and big data analyses all jumbled together on the carpeted floor.

Neither of them glanced down.

“Or I can have you _escorted_ out,” Calvin Couller, the Director of the FBI, finished.

Nick looked him in the eye a moment longer, almost tempted to see him try, before shrugging and getting up. He dusted the chair off with theatrical precision.

“So sorry. Didn’t know you were _that_ insecure,” he said, turning the chair towards Couller and stepping away.

The older man sent him a scathing look and stepped closer, setting his briefcase down and sitting down with a pointed look towards the visitor’s chair. Nick pretended not to notice, choosing instead to lean against the wide window, the bulletproof glass cold against his back.

Couller cursed under his breath and turned to keep him in sight.

“What do you want, Fury?”

Nick smiled.

“I was in the area and thought I’d swing by,” he shrugged. “See how you’re getting on, do you a favour and point out a threat that you’ve been ignoring, judge on my own just how bad your security team is.”

“A threat,” Couller repeated, one eyebrow raised. “A threat serious enough for you to crawl out of your rat hole? One that couldn’t go into the official reports?”

“Reports can be accessed too easily, sometimes.”

Couller sent him a long, heavy look. Nick met it evenly.

“No.”

Nick stilled.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not interested.”

“Not interested in a threat to national security?” Nick repeated slowly. That did not line up with Couller’s behavioural patterns, after the recent fuck-up in Colorado he should be desperate for some good press, a way to impress-

Unless he had been compromised.

“I’m not interested in being your Goddamned patsy,” Couller snorted, looking at Nick from under heavy brows. “I know you, Fury. You’d only offer a helping hand if you were hiding a knife in the other, and I’m not interested in being the latest corpse in the ditch. Get lost.”

The last person to tell Nick to ‘get lost’ was his drunk bastard of a father, right before coming at Nick and getting his arm broken for his trouble. Nick envisioned how Couller would look with a broken forearm, how his fatty face would twist and bleach white, pale eyes squeezed shut.

He smiled.

“I couldn’t give a rat ass if you think I’m Machiavelli reincarnated, as long as you do your goddamned job,” he said pleasantly. “And your job description includes acting on intel about threats to national security-“

“Don’t lecture me about my duties, you-“

“-that’s what you got these increased funds for-“

“What, you and your entire shady organisation, with your _secret_ budget and your _complete lack of oversight_ can’t deal with one threat?” Couller surged from his chair, leaning against the desk. “Who is it, then? Did one of your agents go rogue, did Putin’s bastard end up working in the White House, did some mad scientist create another monster? What can’t you deal with, Nicky?”

“Tony Stark.”

There was a moment of silence.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I wish,” Nock sighed.

“Stark is the long-term military contractor, our _best one_ , his latest waffling aside. Stark Industries have consistently-“

“Risen above the competition? _Crushed_ them? Managed to avoid _any_ fallout from the latest clusterfuck on the financial market? Have gathered the amount of influence that should have left you scared shitless, all in the _last two years_? Yes, I can see that there’s _nothing_ there to investigate.”

Couller stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched.

“You sound like a paranoid bastard,” he finally ground out, straightening up and smoothing down his suit, the pompous fucker. “And I _know_ you are a paranoid bastard, but that’s a bit much, even for you. Where did this come from?”

Nick raised an eyebrow.

“What, did the whole list I just gave you seem somehow insufficient? Or did I use too many long words? Would you like a PowerPoint presentation, a diagram, something easier to digest?”

“What I’d like, is for you to fuck off and stop wasting my time,” Couller said. “But I will settle for the real reason why you are here, whining at me instead of taking care of it yourself. _No_ , stop trying to bullshit me, Fury! I know you. I know how your- organization _deals with_ threats.”

Nick considered Couller, old and heavy and spread lazily in his director’s chair. He considered the vast network of connections and favors and deals that got Couller into that chair, the rotten compromises that _kept_ him in it for the last five years, despite that spectacular FUBAR operation in Texas and the recent change of administration. The fat bastard was in no position to judge anyone, least of all him and his people.

But perhaps sharing a few pieces of information was in order, if only to keep Couller from blundering the whole operation the fuck up.

“Tony Stark had spent almost three months held captive in Afghanistan,” Nick said. “Bar the first few, _extremely_ brief interviews, he talked to no one about that. All our attempts to get any useful intel had crashed against the wall of his money and his lawyers. We know jack shit about what happened in those caves. What did they do to him? What did _he_ do to get away?”

Couller frowned.

“He destroyed that terrorist cell, the military investigation-“

“Found the base with all the terrorists conveniently dead, yes,” and that’s not even mentioning the mess _someone_ had made of Stark’s supposed workshop. Only blackened walls remained of that part of the cave system. “A few days after his triumphant return, Stark had a confrontation with his business partner that ended with the partner killed ‘in self-defence’-“

“Stane was a dangerous psychopath, and a traitor,” Couller said, his face suddenly poker-blank, his posture studiously relaxed. “That plan of his, to sell Stark weapons to the terrorists? Madness. It’s a tragedy that Stark had to kill him to defend himself, of course, but-“

“Of course,” Nick smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “But the fact remains, Stane’s death made Stark the unquestionable master of Stark Industries. The board wouldn’t dare to oppose him, the investors practically worship the ground he walks on-”

“After the way he kept his company afloat during the financial crisis…”

“Afloat, my ass! Stark has the company fucking _growing,_ even now _, during the crisis_ , buying smaller companies left and right, gaining patents and production right’s at ridiculously low prices-“

“The SEC and the FTC had already investigated it-“

“And found him squeaky clean, I know,” Nick nodded. “Of course they did, Stark is too clever to be caught over collusion, of all things. No, he’s got something big planned, something he needs all those resources and scientists and facilities _for_ …”

“Next you’re going to say he wants to take over the world, like a villain in a bad B-class movie,” Couller said flatly. “What I hear is a lot of implications and no solid evidence, no, wait, there’s not even a clear _accusation_ in your gibberish-“

“That new element of his, the one that got him nominated for a Nobel Prize?” Nick interrupted, pushing away from the window and coming closer, around the massive desk, forcing Couller to turn after him or have him at his back. “Stark didn’t come up with it all by himself, no matter what he’d like the world to believe.”

“You want us to investigate possible _plagiarism?_ ”

“ _Howard_ Stark created it, even if he couldn’t actually manufacture it at the time.”

“I fail to see-“

“He created it while working on the Manhattan Project.”

Nick took some pleasure in seeing Couller’s face turn sickly white.

“… what.”

The tone was too flat to be counted as a question, and Nock nodded, satisfied. _Finally_.

“Howard Stark was working on an alternative to nuclear fission,” he said quietly, thinking back to the notes SHIELD have recovered, half code and half science so complicated they’ve needed to create a specialised team just to have any hope of deciphering them. “He believed that this new element would be a viable alternative. Terribly unstable, bloody expensive and years out of his reach at the time, but the destructive power of it… The Tsar Bomb would pale in comparison.”

Nick heard Couller swallow, a dry click of his throat. For all his faults, Couller had enough imagination to hear and _fear_ the implications of any civilian having this much power.

“So far, Tony Stark has kept any presentation he gave on his ‘new’ discovery free from any mention of a possible militaristic use,” Nick continued. “He kept the military in the dark, blinded them with the promises of flying suits of armour, to be used in a ‘strictly non-combatant’ manner. He could easily arm them, give the US a tremendous fighting advantage, but he won’t. He flat out refuses. We have satellite images of what seems to be test flights of a secret, _armed_ model, one he kept for himself, and _only_ for himself. Now, _why_ would he do that?”

He gave Couller a few moments to digest that, to really grasp the amount of shit they had unexpectedly found themselves swimming in, _all_ of them. It did not paint a pretty picture.

Slowly, pensively, Couller nodded, one hand twitching on his desk, his signet ring tapping a quick rhythm against the polished wood. A bad habit, that, Nick noted. An obvious tell.

“What _exactly_ do you expect me to do?” Couller asked at length, looking up at him with pale, reddened eyes. “And why don’t you do it yourself?”

Nick gave him a flat look in return.

“I would if I could,” he admitted briskly. “But Stark has clamped his company shut more definitively than a republican’s wallet during a charity drive. No one suspicious gets in, no-one gets out, or at least no-one who is talking. None of my agents made it past the second screening procedure, not even within a spitting distance of Stark himself. The man is better protected than the fucking Pope.”

And didn’t that burn. Milker’s immaculate scientific background was of no use, Romanoff’s best disguises and honeypot routine failed, Barton’s chosen observation points were always covered by SI security…

“Does Stark know about you?” Couller asked quietly.

“Of course not,” Nick lied. “Stark may be a genius scientist with a highly suspicious end game in mind, but he’s no agent, no trained operative. He’s dangerous, but there’s no way he could have found out about SHIELD.”

Couller hummed pensively, giving Nick a long, considering look.

“I hope some of your agents will have more luck,” Nick moved the conversation along, coming closer and lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “They have different training, different approach, they could stand a better chance of infiltrating Stark’s circle. Don’t put anything in any digital database, that’s just inviting Stark to have a look into your records. Just… an informal observation. Any new intel on Stark would be useful.”

“And why should I share such intel?” Couller asked slowly. “Why should I share _anything_ with your agency? _You_ have never bothered to return the favour.”

Nick gave him a cold look.

“Get us intel on Stark, good, reliable intel, and we will think about returning the favour.”

“That’s not good eno-“

“We’ll let you know who your mole in the white-collar crime division is, for a start.”

“…You bastard,” Couller said slowly, with dawning comprehension. “You _fucking_ bastard, you know- It’s _your_ mole, isn’t it? Do you know how many leads we’ve lost in the last five-“

“Yes, I know perfectly well, and no, it’s not _our_ mole,” Nick snorted, finally turning and walking towards the door. His job here was done, and he was out of patience. “But they’ve been mildly useful in passing disinformation along to the interested party.”

“ _What_ interested part?! Fury! Get back here, you _fucking_ -“

Nick allowed the door to close behind him with a soft click and walked on.

He exited the FBI headquarters with no troubles and got in the idling car, nodding at the two agents waiting for him. Time-consuming and a bloody nuisance, these meetings face to face, but hopefully safe. Leaving no electronic trail.

“We have their cooperation, at least for the time being,” he said. “They will act soon, probably within the next three days. Thoughts?”

The senior agent pursued her lips.

“They’ll most probably send investigators and forensic accountants to dig through Star’s records. They won’t find anything.”

“But hopefully they’ll distract Stark,” the other agent added, slowly flexing his left hand. “That gives us some room to move. Stark himself is too unpredictable in his movements, but that old PA of his… We could obtain her.”

“That would be time and cost-ineffective, _and_ it would definitely alienate Stark. We might still need his connections in the Capitol.”

“It would certainly polarize the board, force Stark to react,” Nick said idly, throwing the thought out there, watching what they’d do with it. “A reaction can tell you a lot about a man.”

“But we couldn’t control it,” the senior agent disagreed. “We’re unsure of the scale of his resources, provoking him so openly may prove inadvisable.”

“So let’s provoke him covertly,” the other injected. “The hacker team has been up in arms about how good Stark’s cyber defences are, how impossibly, _inhumanly_ good… Perhaps we should look into that.”

Nick nodded, just a bit.

He had his own suspicions, of course. He remembered a report, about a decade back, about Stark developing a new natural-language user interference, followed in a few years by some kind of smart-house program, created to run his home and interact with people in it. It had been described as a prototype for a future in-house system, marketed to these who liked their bath drawn as they were coming back from work, that kind of a pointless, rich-people thing. Another one of Stark’s irrelevant experiments, like a robotic arm or a swimming car. Harmless. Easily dismissed.

Unless it was something else. Something _more_.

“Perhaps we should,” he agreed, smiling slowly, eye narrowed in thought. “You’ll collaborate on this. It is high time we see just what Stark has been hiding under the acronym JARVIS.”

Agents Hill and Rumlow exchanged glances and nodded, faces set. They’d get it done.

***

His security detail grumbled about the sudden trip, but Tony had been grumbled and snapped at by true masters, and so he didn’t take much notice. They should be happy he was taking them with him in the first place.

The security detail was a compromise he had hammered out with Pepper, uncomfortable but necessary: he would drag a team of bodyguards behind himself, as long as _she_ did as well. And _boy_ , did he staff her team with the best professionals money and favours could buy, with M keeping a discreet eye on the whole ensemble.

“Marcus is not happy with you taking the jet, sir,” Jarvis said in his ear as they were preparing for a landing. “Why am _I_ the one listening to his grumbles yet again?”

“I haven’t the foggiest, J. Maybe because everyone likes you best?” he fibbed, glancing over at Jane. She was paying him no mind, all her attention focused on the StarkPad in her hands, fingers flying, almost vibrating with impatience to join her team.

He hid a smile, looking back on his own copy of the incident report, the readings definitely interesting, _unique_ , and he could guess just who would be waiting for them somewhere in New Mexico. Hopefully, this time, they could deal with the first contact _without_ destroying a nearby town and letting SHIELD get their greedy hands all over the shiny new alien-prince.

“My vast superiority is obvious and quite beside the point, sir.”

What- oh. He snorted. “Alright, alright, Mr Smarty Pants. Gimme the real reason, then.”

“Marcus talks to me because he knows that there is no point talking to you.”

“Hey, now-“

“He knows you will just ignore him, as you tend to ignore _every_ advice concerning your safety. Often to your own deterrent.”

“Aww, don’t be like that, baby-“

“Marcus has pointed out that it’s the second time this month that you’ve used the jet, sir. Forming such patterns is ill-advised.”

“God forbid I become predictable.”

“Dismissing my advice does not diminish the danger you are exposed to, Father,” M injected, his voice distinctly cold and chiding, even through the earpiece. “Nor these close to you.”

Tony sighed, looking up at the nearest camera. For all that M usually preferred staying in the background, he sure could make himself heard when he felt the need.

“I know,” he allowed, grimacing in an apology. “I didn’t mean to ignore you. I’ll take a different route back, maybe a car trip through some of the field SI offices, if there’s time? Or Vegas, I can always go through Vegas, that should work.”

“I will decide your itinerary.”

“If you like,” Tony agreed easily. He trusted M to do his job, after all.

He had _created_ him to do this job, to be his guardian and advisor, keeping him and his people safe. And he was _beautiful_ : clever and imaginative and utterly vicious. Paranoid enough to detect any threat and ruthless enough to deal with it, his steel teeth just waiting to snap. He would never let anyone kidnap Pepper, or put Happy in a hospital, or-or-

M would keep his friends and employees save from the consequences of Tony’s mistakes.

“Your heart rate is spiking again, sir,” Jarvis said in a carefully neutral tone.

“Just thinking about all the fun I’m gonna have in Vegas,” Tony dismissed easily, going back to his StarkPad. “No need to be jealous, J, I’ll bring you back something, a souvenir. An ashtray, would you like an ashtray?”

“An urn, sir, for the ashes of our enemies,” Jarvis stated blandly.

Tony snorted.

“You got it, buddy.”

So perhaps he went a bit overboard when he had been updating, shoring up and plainly reconstructing some of Jarvis’ defences, so what? A bit of an edge had never hurt anybody. It was the lack of that edge, that grasping self-preservation people instinctively possessed, that had cost Jarvis his life in the past. That and Tony’s fuck ups, of course.

No fuck ups allowed this time.

The landing soon after was butter smooth and Tony made a mental note to give the pilots a rise. The newest stealth-jet prototype was miles ahead of anything on the market, fast and ultra-light and virtually silent, and a fucking bitch to manoeuvre. He would know, he had crashed two previous models before getting the speed to control-sensitivity ratio right.

“Thank you again, Tony,” Jane said, already dashing down the ramp towards a jeep waiting nearby. “See you later!”

And off she went, probably straight to some abandoned field to confer with her team about their latest findings. Boy, was _she_ in for a surprise.

Tony sighed and let her go, making a mental note to check with her in the morning. He even let the _completely unnecessary_ security team precede him down the lamp with minimal eye-rolling and was amply rewarded by a stunning smile.

“Welcome back, Tony.”

He had to smile back.

“You know, I really don’t need a welcoming committee,” he teased, cocking an eyebrow from behind his signature sunglasses. “It’s not like I’m a president, or a pope, or-“

“Or an up-and rising evil overlord?” Maya Hansen shot right back, hands at her hips. “Yeah, well, so you keep saying. I’ll play it safe if it’s all the same to you, and once you officially take over, you’ll remember that I’ve always been nice to you. And that I wouldn’t say no to ruling Belgium. I always fancied wearing a crown, an elegant statement in silver, preferably, and Belgian chocolates are simply to _die for_.”

“A vital consideration when choosing your future domain,” he agreed seriously.

“Don’tcha know it. It’s called having priorities, Tony.”

He shook his head and gave her a quick half-hug, half-kiss on the cheek, smelling her perfume and trying not to notice a shadow of uncertainty in her eyes, the faint ring of truth in her words. He wished for the hundredth time he had found a more… _discreet_ way of dealing with Killian.

“Anyone else in?” he asked as they got into the waiting car and drove off. It was quite a way from the landing strip to the main lab and manufacture building.

“At two at night? Almost everyone, strangely enough,” she sent him a knowing look. “Other than Jane’s team, but their idea of proper bedtime is almost as insane as yours.”

“Proper bedtime?” he repeated slowly, scratching at his beard. “‘Proper bedtime’, hm… Haven’t heard of it. Is it in some extinct dialect?”

“Endangered, certainly, especially around here. Anyone in particular you’re going to drag out from their bed?”

“Lukas’ been haunting me about having a sit-down, now seems as good a time as any.”

“Still having problems with the calculations?”

He shot her a sharp look.

“Hey, I don’t need to be a mathematical genius to understand what it means when someone keeps cursing and running through the same equations day after day,” she shrugged, eyes on the road. “Even if they curse in Dutch. I could take a look later, if you want me to?”

Tony thought about it for a moment. They were stuck, there was no hiding it. They _had been_ stuck for months now, and a fresh pair of eyes could potentially give them a break, point them in the right direction. On the other hand…

“Your speciality is biology and genetic manipulation, not physics or astronautical engineering. And you’ve got your own project to contend with,” he finally said, smiling at the dark shape slowly emerging from the darkness in front of them. They were almost there. “Speaking of which, how is it going? Your latest update looked promising.”

“The brain-storm we had during your last visit gave me some new ideas. I’ve been trying them out and I think I’m onto something,” she replied, biting her lips and not quite hiding her smile, speaking just a bit faster. “The latest batch of tests looks promising, the regeneration is slower and uses less energy, three of the plants didn’t explode _at all-_ “

“That _is_ good news.”

“Yeah, and there’s been an improvement with the overall inmix process. I think- well, maybe I’m too optimistic, but I think we’ll be ready to start testing on mammals soon-“

“ _No._ ”

Tony hadn’t meant to say it quite _this_ forcefully, didn’t want her staring at him with wide, startled eyes, but the mere thought of Extremis tested on mammals, possibly on humans…

Which was ridiculous, of course. He knew that. He had tracked down Maya Hensen over a year ago, once he had… _dealt with_ Aldrich Killian. He had found her- different from his memories, more on edge, more desperate, but perhaps it was to be expected. Her backer and main sponsor had just died in mysterious circumstances, the FBI had started sniffing around his more questionable investments, she had her research and her think-tank to think about… and her research was nowhere near complete. Nowhere near what Tony remembered it being, the formula different, the experiment results different, an unsettling departure from that overly vivid world of his past, coloured in brilliant colours, in blood and fire and snow, still hunting him in his dreams…

“Tony?”

He startled, blinked. Forced himself back to here and now and gave Maya his best press smile.

“Just thinking,” he said, relaxing his death grip in the door handle. They were parked in front of the main residential building, somehow, dammit, he needed to pay more attention! Still, he made no move to get out. He had to straighten this out, first.

He turned towards Maya, looking at her seriously.

“I’m glad you’re making progress,” he told her honestly. “Strike that, I’m downright ecstatic. But I want no experiments on animals, of _any_ kind, not unless you can give me a better report than ‘three plants didn’t blow up’.”

“Tony-“

“ _Three._ Out of twenty!”

“I know-“

“I don’t want any loss of life, even animals-“

“Tony, _I know!_ ” Maya exclaimed, all but throwing her hand up. “I _know_ , okay, I _get_ it. You don’t have to mansplain it.”

“I’m _not-_ “

“And _I’m_ not an idiot! I know how the scientific procedure works, I’ve only been doing it for the last, oh, _twenty years_! You don’t have to explain basic concepts to me!”

He grimaced, giving her an apologetic look.

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered, looking away. “I’m just… concerned. I’ve spent my whole life in the weapon industry, and let me tell you, exploding bio-mass has a _horrific_ potential to be weaponised by the wrong people.”

Maya didn’t respond for a long movement, but he could feel her eyes on his face. He kept looking stubbornly forward.

“Then it’s a good thing we’re not that kind of people,” she finally said, soft and- almost tentative. He heard her swallow. “We’re not, Tony, are we?”

He reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing hard, just once.

“No,” he rasped. “We’re not.”

Maybe if kept telling himself that he would eventually believe it.

***

He bid Maya goodnight just inside the main residential building, promising her that yes, _of course_ they’d have another meeting before he left, no, he would not sneak off while she was busy with the latest batch of samples, he was done with sneaking off in the mornings, all grown up and mature now, scout’s honour.

There really was no need for her to laugh at him like that.

The entrance hall of the central residential building welcomed him with its cool embrace, its wide, open spaces, and a familiar voice.

“Welcome home, Father.”

Tony grinned widely, stupidly. Helpless against it.

“Hello, Wendy, darling. How is my favourite baby-girl doing?”

“I’m well, thank you,” his youngest AI said, her voice still just a bit _off_ , but smoother than during his last visit, more natural. She was growing up _so fast._ “I’ve been interacting with your new people, they are quite interesting.”

“You mean Georgia and Marnie?” he made sure, thinking back to the married pair, a weapon specialist and a biochemist he had brought to the compound two months ago. They were sweet girls and a good influence on Wendy’s still-developing personality. “How do you get along with them?”

“Really well, Father. And I’ve been practising my Italian with Sophia. And monitoring all the operations and experiments, of course.”

“Of course,” Tony agreed, trying to get his stupid smile under control. Truly, it was ridiculous, how fond he was of Wendy. She was no Friday, _could not be_ Friday, because every AI was different, unique, learning different things at a different pace, but still… Wendy was the youngest one, still experimenting and making friends and changing almost daily… It was really something. A precious time to be treasured.

“I’m sorry I can’t be around more often,” he said quietly, walking towards the communal kitchen and dining area. He could kill for a cup of strong coffee. “You can always reach me through Jarvis, but I know it’s not the same.”

“I understand,” Wendy said serenely, lighting up his path and opening the doors without him even having to press his hands to bio-scanner access panels. She was thoughtful like that. “You’re a busy man, Father, and I can follow you through Jarvis or M if I feel alone. And you bring people here to keep me company.”

Tony smiled. Wendy’s grasp on social interactions was still simple and childishly self-centred. Tony was important, of course, and she and her siblings were important, so it followed that the other people on the premises, the scientists and hackers and engineers Tony had painstakingly sought out and tested and finally recruited, buried under mountains and mountains of iron-clad contracts and ND agreements and others, even more binding ties… Well, they were all here to entertain her. Obviously.

Tony had no idea where she got that self-absorption from.

“Wake Lukas up for me, darling, would you? And no, I don’t care how late it is, he’s been after me for days now to have a chat, and he should know to be careful what he wishes for,” he said, homing in on the coffee pot, already smelling of the black, life-giving ambrosia. His baby-girl knew him so well. “And let me know when Jane returns, I want to check-up with her as well. The rest can wait until morning.”

There was a moment of silence. Tony took a sip of his coffee. Ah. Perfect.

“Dr Bakker is on his way. Though he called you several derogatory names and threatened to wedge a coffee cup up your anus,” Wendy said serenely, almost causing Tony to choke. “I’ll inform you the instant Dr Foster returns.”

“Th- thank you,” he coughed. “Ah, Wendy, darling… You don’t have to always relay the _entirety_ of a message, you know? You can just- convey the gist of it.”

“I believe I just did,” she said, and wait a minute, was that- “Have I made you uncomfortable, Father?”

Yes, that _definitely_ was laugher in her voice. Great. Now his youngest baby was using bad language and laughing at him. How was that his life, again?

“I need more coffee to deal with this,” he muttered, taking a seat at the long table and tapping its surface twice, turning it into an interactive workstation. “All the coffee in the world.”

“Would you like me to peruse the available options?” Jarvis asked with suspicious deference. “Although I feel I must remind you, sir, that the US and, indeed, most international laws take a very dim view of _any_ monopoly, even coffee-based ones. I doubt that ‘ _but I need it’_ defence would work.”

“Everyone is a critic,” Tony sighed, flicking through the latest simulations Lukas and his team had run through. Ouch. That bad? “I’ve no idea where you got so sassy, Jarvis, I really don’t.”

“ _I_ have no idea where he got so well-mannered,” a new voice muttered from the doorway.

Tony glanced up and sent Lukas a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t look at me, I don’t know him, the first time I’ve heard that voice,” he said. “Now, grab some coffee, take a seat and tell me how it looks.”

***

It did not look good.

“We need more power,” Lukas said for what must have been a hundredth time. He was leaning over the table, his face sagging, his blonde hair standing up in strange clumps from where he had been running his hands through them. “For what you want, we need more power. Stable, high-volume power, with no risk of interruption or interference. We can’t move forward without it.”

“What about adding a mixture of solar and water-based electricity?” Tony tried, though without much hope. “If we diversify our energy sources-“

“It’s not enough, you _know_ it’s not enough, there aren’t enough solar panels on the whole globe to sustain-“

“Not on its own, but as an extra option, a backup-“

“It won’t work, we’ve checked, and then checked again with different variables, and then again, and it _won’t work_!” Lukas banged his hand on the table, efficiently scrambling the holograms. Then he sighed and rubbed his eyes, pushing his glasses askew. “You know it won’t work, Tony, you’ve been working on it even longer than I have.”

“You’re the resident specialist,” Tony shrugged.

“Yeah, bullshit,” Lukas gave him an unamused look. “You just wanted someone else to run over your calculations-.”

“Hey now, that’s unfair,” Tony protested, taking another swallow of his- ugh, his _cold_ coffee. He grimaced and got up to get a new mug. Three mugs in under two hours, wasn’t that unhealthy?

Nah. Not like he was likely to die from _high blood pressure_. Not with _his_ record.

“I also wanted you here for your expertise and your roughish good looks,” he said to Lukas over his shoulder. “And I can’t be here all the time, I’ve got other shit to do, a company to run, underage models to ravish, that sort of things-“

“You wanted someone to look at your calculations and tell you they were wrong,” Lukas said flatly. “Well, I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”

Tony hummed vaguely, hunting in the cupboard for a clean mug.

“Tony.”

“Hm?”

“We need the Arc Reactors.”

Tony stilled.

“I know you’re- protective over your technology, but it’s our best bet,” Lukas continued. “An Arc Reactor is safe and environment-neutral and the sheer _power_ it can generate- Hell, I don’t have to tell you, you _invented_ it! The one you’ve installed here-“

“Is hidden and heavy guarded and you’ve never been anywhere _near_ it,” Tony bit out without turning around. “I’d know if you had tried.”

There was a moment of heavy silence.

“Of course you’d know,” Lukas sighed. “Still, I don’t need to look at it to _appreciate_ its capabilities. It powers the whole base, doesn’t it, all the labs and workshops and manufacturing units… That’s why no one has bothered us, you’ve hidden us from satellites _and_ form anyone looking at the power output, this place would light up like a Christmas tree otherwise. If we had even ten, fifteen of them, we could-“

“No.”

Lukas hesitated. Tony could hear him behind him, could hear the rustle of cloth and the awkwardly cleared throat, but he still did not turn around, still kept his own eyes on the coffee mug. The coffee was filling it slowly, steadily, he could smell it, he could hear it, he was in the compound kitchen, not in that godforsaken bunker, not in his old sitting room, on that sofa, not- Obi was _dead_ , Tony had _watched_ him die, he wasn’t _here_ , wasn’t about to tear Tony’s Arc Reactor, his _heart,_ out of his chest-

“-ny? Tony? Sir?”

He flinched, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I- should I-“

“No,” he rasped, leaning heavily on the counter, the marble counter under his hands, the hum of machines in his ears, the smell of coffee- “No, I’m fine. Just- just give me a moment.”

“Of course,” Lukas said softly, and damn, Tony _hated_ when that happened, when anyone saw him like that, people _always_ started treating him like he was _weak_ , made of glass, can’t trust the man’s judgment, just _look_ at his PTSD…

“I’m fine,” he said with a stronger voice, finally straightening and turning around. Lukas sat stone-still in his chair, eyes avoiding Tony’s.

“Now stop that,” he snapped, snatching his fresh mug of coffee and taking a gulp, damn it was hot but it felt good, _real_ on his tongue. “I’m fine, I’m- _Look_ at me when I’m talking to you. Yeah, that’s better, _thank_ you.”

He took a deep breath and walked back to the table, sitting a few seats away from Lukas. When he spoke, he forced himself to speak slowly, dispassionately. Like he was narrating someone’s else autopsy.

“We’re not going to use Arc Reactors. You’re right, I’ve thought about it, I’ve run these calculations though as well. I know just how many reactors I’d need, where I’d have to place them, the hexagon structure I’d use to maximize shielding stability…”

Lukas shook his head.

“Then _why_ -“

“Because I can’t protect them,” Tony cut him off. “I cannot guarantee their safety. Do you have _any_ idea how many lines of defence I’ve put in place here, in this super-secret, hidden, underground base? And I didn’t do it just because I don’t like other people touching my stuff, I did it so no one would mess with the Arc Reactor.”

“But-” Lukas hesitated, drumming his fingers on the table. “But then why can’t you build the network of Arc Reactor we’d need and just re-use these security measures? Protect them as well?”

Tony snorted.

“There would be too many of them,” he said, running a tired hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’d need to use one reactor for every field generator, that’s the only workable solution, and that gives us over three dozen sites. Three dozen possible thefts.”

“But you _have_ protected the one in here, the one you’re going to put in that tower you’re building-“

“That’s _two_ , and believe me, they keep me awake at night as well,” he sighed, looking up at Lukas’ pale, weary face. They were all working too hard, they were all tired of the lack of progress. “I can protect two places. I cannot guarantee the same for almost forty. All it would take is one theft, one opportunistic bastard getting their hands on my technology…”

“And then what?” Lukas asked, spreading his hands. “What’s the worst they could do?”

Tony chuckled, a grim little laugh. What a question….

“They could destroy Texas, to start with. The state, not the city. And probably take a good chunk out of New Mexico and Oklahoma, while they were at it. If we were lucky.”

And fuck, what did it say about his life, that mass destruction and murder and starting a nuclear winter was the ‘lucky’ option?

“If we’re _unlucky_ ,” he continued into the stunned silence, “they’d try to reverse-engineer the technology. If they succeeded… Well, I’m sure you’ve seen the Expo fed, that new Iron Man armour I presented? Now imagine a dozen of these, armed with guns and missiles and, I don’t know, maybe even _nuclear missiles_ , and pointed at the civilian population. And others would follow. A new arms race.”

_One last golden egg…_

He gave Lukas a small, tight smile.

“That seems like a bit too high a risk to me.”

Lukas looked at him with bleak, tired eyes.

“Is it worse than the alternative?” Lukas asked quietly. “Can we afford _not_ to risk it?”

And wasn’t that the question of the hour. How far was _too far?_

“We’ll find another option,” Tony lied. “A _better_ option. I’ve got a few ideas on the back burner, we’ll see what turns up.”

Lukas didn’t answer, staring glumly at his coffee cup, long empty.

Tony sighed and massaged his aching eyes.

“That’s been fun,” he murmured. “Let’s do this again sometime next year. I don’t know about you, I can feel my bed calling me. It’s been some time since we saw each other, it’s probably going to read me a riot act, abandonment is abuse and all that. Time for me to crash.”

“Tony.”

“Hm?”

“I- Me and a part of my team, we want to tend our resignations.”

 _That_ brought Tony up short.

“Resignations,” he repeated.

Lukas nodded, still staring down, still not meeting Tony’s eyes.

“Any particular reason?” Tony asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice, trying _not_ to- “Why you’d quit the best-paying job you’ve ever had, with the best project budget, the best-“

“We appreciate all you’ve done for us, Tony, but-“

“But you’re still going to break your contract and _quit-_ “

“Because we’re stuck!” Lukas finally exclaimed, standing up and pacing away from the table, along the kitchen’s far wall. “We’re not making progress and we’re not _going to_ make any progress! Not with what we have-“

“So you’re just going to _give up?_ ”

“So we’re going to move on to other projects, ones that we can actually make work! Ones that have a chance of succeeding, of helping other people, making the world-“

“Oh _please,_ spare me the ‘world-saviour’ routine. If you cared so much you’d stick it out, you _know_ what’s at stake here-“

“No, we don’t! Because you never tell us anything, you never tell _anyone_ anything, and we’re all left guessing just _what_ catastrophe you’re preparing for! We _believe_ that you’re doing it for a good reason, these calculations you’ve shown us… But Tony, there’s _no way-_ We’re stuck here, doing no good, making no progress, no- when we could be working on other things, _making a difference_ …”

“ _This_ will make all the difference.”

Luka sighed.

“I believe you, Tony, I do, but- It’s not enough. We cannot do it. There’s no power source on Earth powerful enough to sustain a planetary-wide force field. It’s just not possible.”

Yeah, that was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it?

“I’ll make it possible,” Tony said, staring straight at Lukas, staring him down, _willing_ him to believe. “You want to quit? Fine. But you’re still under the contract and that means a three-month notice period. You stay here for these three months, you keep working, and I’m going to _show_ you that _nothing_ is impossible.”

“…how?”

“I’ll _get_ you that damned power source.”

He’d _make_ this work if it was the last thing he did.


End file.
